


More Faith

by lesyeuxverts



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 07:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesyeuxverts/pseuds/lesyeuxverts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Looking at Kingsley, Charlie could make himself believe that nothing had changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Faith

Pressed to the back of the crowd, Charlie watched Kingsley tap his throat and cast the _Sonorous_ spell. The red formal robes were the ones he'd worn as an Auror – he stood straight and tall, just the same. Looking at Kingsley, Charlie could make himself believe that nothing had changed.  
  
But Kingsley was at the podium because he was the Minister of Magic, and that changed everything.  
  
"… _dark days in our past, but brighter days are ahead_ … _days where we can face the world as witches and wizards, our heads held high_ … _knowing that the terror of war has at last come to an end…_ "  
  
"I don't mind," Charlie had said. "We'll be discreet – we've done it before – it'll be fine." Running his hands over Kingsley's skin, he'd made himself believe it. Kingsley's laugh had rumbled through his chest as he flipped their positions, pinning Charlie to the bed and giving him a _look_ that made him forget it.  
  
Charlie looked down at his hands. They were blunt and rough-hewn, as if an apprentice sculptor had rushed through the making of them, promised an hour of free time when his work was done and careless of any mistakes that he'd made to get it. Charlie's fingers were short and stubby, his nails bitten to the quick – they were hands that suited him, hands that worked well with leather or dragon hide, fingers that had always worked for him.  
  
They were nothing compared to Kingsley's elegant hands, his graceful fingers – he'd captured criminals and won confessions, saved lives and sworn vows to uphold the welfare of their world. He was about to swear another vow now.  
  
Charlie took another step back, easing his way out of the crowd until he was pressed against the far wall. He was still watching Kingsley – he couldn't seem to stop.   
  
He would be the Minister's dirty secret, the lover that he wasn't supposed to have. Nothing beyond the bounds of propriety – Charlie would come back to England to visit his family, of course, and make excuses to drop by the Ministry, but the Portkeys that left a trace, the international Floo trips that were always tracked … those were things of the past. He couldn't afford to be caught.   
  
"… _ringing justice and peace_ … _prosperity in the new world order_ … _peaceful coexistence, wizard and Muggle living together_ …"  
  
Kingsley had stopped him, the night the election results were tallied, when the taste of champagne was still sweet in his mouth. "You understand," he'd said, pressing Charlie against the wall, "that this … will make you a target. Anyone – any dissident with a cause, with a grievance with the Ministry – will go after you in order to hurt me."  
  
Charlie had only nodded, taking a swig of champagne and swallowing past the tightness of his throat. "Of course," he'd said. "I understand."  
  
He did understand – he hadn't asked Kingsley for anything. He hadn't complained, hadn't said a single word. This was Kingsley's choice.   
  
His first speech as Minister went well. The crowd cheered and shot sparks from their wands, applauding Kingsley as the bastion of progress and prosperity. He would bring his light to their world and chase away the shadow of Voldemort and the corruption of Scrimgeour.   
  
Charlie's hands hurt, clenched into fists as they were. His nails were too short to dig into his skin, but he'd pressed his fingers into his palms so tight that he'd cut off the blood flowing to them. His skin tingled, numb and dead.  
  
The last thing that he'd expected was to see Kingsley after the speech was over. Charlie had already made excuses in his mind, reasons to sneak out of the Burrow after dinner, pretexts for going by Kingsley's office at the Ministry.   
  
Kingsley pressed through the crowd, his red-robed Aurors flanking him. At first, Charlie didn't believe what he was seeing, but the people parted before Kingsley, and in a matter of seconds, he was standing before Charlie. He caught Charlie's hands in his own.   
  
His hands brought warmth to Charlie's cold ones, and he bent over them, pressing a kiss to Charlie's short stubby fingers. When he looked up at Charlie again, he was smiling.  
  
"Dinner tonight?"  
  
Dragons, when they first learn to fly, hang in the air for the length of a long heartbeat – a heavy weight hanging there, wings still furled close to the body. It takes time and patience to master the art of flying, and Charlie had watched hatchling after hatchling as they learned.  
  
"I … you … you said…"  
  
"What?"  
  
Charlie swallowed hard. "You said–"  
  
"I said that this would make you a target … not that you weren't capable of handling anything that they could throw at you, Charlie. I have more faith in you than that."  
  
Kingsley kissed him, making it last. Their lips were only a breath apart when Kingsley pulled away, his hands still on Charlie's shoulders. "I didn't mean to make you think–"  
  
Charlie reached up, clasping his forearms. "I misunderstood."  
  
Leaning in, Kingsley rested his forehead against Charlie's. "Dinner, then? Or shall we leave them all staring?"  
  
Charlie kissed him again. A rustle of applause followed, and Charlie put his arms around Kingsley, pulling him closer. Their every move would be public, scrutinized and photographed – both public displays and private emotions would be fodder for the press, but Charlie would have Kingsley.  
  
There would be no dirty secrets – nothing hidden – no secret Portkeys or tiring Apparitions. He'd Floo in from Romania every night, just as he had these past few months.   
  
Charlie kissed Kingsley, in front of the crowds and the reporters, letting the kiss linger longer than was seemly. The public would just have to get used to it – to them.   
  
"Dinner and dessert. Tonight and every night you'll have me," he said, whispering into Kingsley's ear, _believing_.


End file.
